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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837433">Michael: Parkour and Lockpicking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustALilSnail/pseuds/JustALilSnail'>JustALilSnail</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>1000 Ways to Tell the Stoll Brothers Apart and I Can Name You One [33]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Percy Jackson and the Olympians &amp; Related Fandoms - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But for the purpose of this fic he’s not a good guy, Gen, He is my top three favorite god, I love the dude, Lee Fletcher’s Mom is not a good parent, Light Angst, Not Apollo friendly, canon character death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:34:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustALilSnail/pseuds/JustALilSnail</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Becoming a leader to a horde of teens and pre-teens when he himself is just a 15 year old isn’t on his to-do list after Lee died, but he’s a demigod. And if there’s anything he learns about being a demigod, it’s that you just have to roll with the punches.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>1000 Ways to Tell the Stoll Brothers Apart and I Can Name You One [33]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1284746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Michael: Parkour and Lockpicking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Chapters ref: 26, 32</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p></p>
  <div class="resolved">
    <p> </p>
  </div>
</div><h1>Michael — Skills</h1><p>Michael (15) - Travis (15) - Connor (14)</p><p>August 2008</p><p>Post The Battle of the Labyrinth</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>['Just a feeling.']</em>
</p><p>Just a feeling, Lee told him.</p><p>
  <em>['Because I don't want you to fight.']</em>
</p><p>Because something bad would have happened, Lee told him.</p><p>
  <em>['It's good to trust your instincts.']</em>
</p><p>So why hadn't he?</p><p>Why hadn't he?</p><p>He tears his eyes away from the burning shroud to Will Solace, consoling their half-sister. Does Michael feel bad pulling Will aside to the edge of the forest where it's just them and only them? Just a little bit. But it's urgent matters and can't really wait.</p><p>"I'm challenging you."</p><p>Will stares at him, dumbfounded. Probably mentally exhausted from both fighting and healing earlier.</p><p>"I'm challenging you for the counselor position," Michael repeats, "You've been here the longest. But I'm older and I am challenging you for the role."</p><p>Will opposes, naturally. Something, something about 'you have a family' 'the missions are dangerous' 'you can die' 'your family will be devastated' and blah blah blah.</p><p>"I need to be the counselor," he says when Will finishes his tirade. "Something is telling me that I have to be it."</p><p>"But… you can die," Will argues with puppy eyes that would have been effective if Michael didn't have four younger siblings who can do it better.</p><p>They fight then and there.</p><p>Michael wins, of course. Will isn't the best at combat to begin with either.</p><p>It's for the best that he's the counselor.</p><hr/><p>He finds Apollo by the cabins, staring at the burning shrouds. Not smiling for once. Serious even. It looks like he's even mourning. Like he's sad. Devastated. Grieving. What a fucking joke.</p><p>Michael abandons his goal of retrieving his duffel bag and heads to Apollo, hissing, "You liar."</p><p>"Excuse me?" Apollo says, the beginning of fury flickering in Apollo's eyes (blue, like Lee's). He should probably apologize. Should grovel for his life. Should beg for forgiveness. Say that it is grief making him this way. But he's tired and everywhere aches and he's hurting and he's just so, so <em>tired</em>. He doesn't have the patience anymore.</p><p>"You heard me." Michael looks up to his father's eyes, "You are a <em>liar.</em> You promised me you would talk to Lee once a week or once a month. Guess what Lee said when I asked about you?"</p><p>Ah, now the fury subsides and if Michael looks deep enough, he can see shame.</p><p>Apollo looks back to the fire, hands stuffing into his jacket as he shuffles back on his sneakers. "Look, Michael, I'm a god. I have things to do. Pulling the sun is one when the auto-pilot isn't working. Fixing the car so it can run on auto-pilot is another. Helping doctors find cures. Making diseases to keep humanity on their toes. Then there's the matter of my family. I have to check in with my mother and sister too, you know. I'm busy as—"</p><p>"All I asked was a few minutes a month," Michael says, blankly. "Just to show that you actually care."</p><p>"I do care!" Apollo whirls to face him entirely. He drops his teen persona for someone older. Bad move. This new persona looks a lot more punchable. "I'm his dad, of course I care."</p><p>"And? You were never there for him. You never did anything except give him a stupid guitar and bow. You never showed you care. I don't even think you care for any of your kids. Do you even appreciate what any of them has done for you? All of them, every single person here in this camp are willing to die for <em>you</em> and <em>your</em> <em>family</em> and <em>your family's stupid thrones</em>, because you're their parents. Don't make us doubt ourselves when we're so far in already, you piece of—"</p><p>Michael chokes as someone pulls on his shirt from behind, collar pressing against his jugular. He's dragged away from Apollo and the cabins. He claws at the hands pulling him, digging the soles of his feet into the ground. It slows him down some but the person just picks him and tosses him onto his ass like a sack of potatoes, right on top of a pile of soft wood shavings.</p><p>"You shouldn't have said all that," the daughter of Athena, the second in command, Annabeth Chase says with a glare that can match his mother's.</p><p>Miranda pops up from behind Annabeth's back, playing with her bracelet with an unnervingly blank expression, and Silena behind her, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. They didn't say anything, just stare at him with what Michael just knows is pity and he doesn't need pity. What he needs is to talk some more shit to Apollo.</p><p>Michael stands back up, glowering right back. "Well, someone has to say it."</p><p>"You want them to switch sides? That's how you get them to switch sides," Annabeth snaps, straightening and adding another inch to the couple she already has on him. "Say all that when we win."</p><p>"The gods won't care anymore if we win. The only reason why they're listening to us now is because we're useful to them."</p><p>"That's not true," Annabeth growls, but there's a hint of uncertainty in her gray eyes, like she doesn't really believe what she's saying.</p><p>"You guys, come on, we shouldn't be fighting right now. Not when we just burned our friends minutes ago. Let Apollo mourn. Lee is his son," Silena murmurs, placing a hand on Annabeth's arm in a placating gesture.</p><p>"Apollo has no right to be grieving. He didn't do shit for Lee," Michael states.</p><p>"At least Apollo attended his funeral. Some gods don't," Annabeth says, Silena flinching for some reason.</p><p>"Oh wow, that's so amazing. They attended their own kids funeral. Such amazing parenting. Top tier actually. The epitome of great parentship. Let's all die for them now."</p><p>"Even if some gods and goddesses are bad parents—"</p><p>"Some," Michael scoffs.</p><p>"Even if <em>some</em> are bad parents, there are a few that's good that care very much and antagonizing them will result in them flipping to support the enemy. The 12 major gods might not, but the minor gods might and we do not need to give the enemy any more ammo."</p><p>Which makes sense. It makes a lot of sense. But Michael, with his big mouth, says, "Maybe the gods should be taken down if it will teach them to be more appreciative."</p><p>Silena winces. Miranda's eyes dart to Annabeth and then him. Annabeth herself looks seconds away from gutting him, her fist curling by her side.</p><p>"Are you the traitor?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Are you the traitor? Did you poison Thalia's pine?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Annabeth takes a step towards him and she looks murderous. When Michael dies he can finally tell Lee that he didn't throw the first punch for once.</p><p>But Annabeth didn't follow through, instead taking a deep breath and holding it for two seconds before exhaling. Her features soften just a bit (Not exactly in pity though. Sympathy?) as she turns her back to him.</p><p>"I'm going to assume what you said today was because of grief. I'll let it go this time. But you're not the only one that lost someone, Michael. Friends I've known for years, since my first year at camp, they're gone now. They died for this cause. I'm not going to let their deaths be in vain. Nothing is going to stop me from winning this war."</p><p>Then Annabeth is walking away, back to the burning shrouds. Silena and Miranda both sigh, shoulders falling as they follow after her.</p><p>("See? What I tell you? Annabeth has her head on straight. We didn't need to break up a fight," Miranda whispers not that quietly to Silena with a way too cheery smile.)</p><hr/><p>Camp goes back to normal the next day.</p><p>Nobody talks about it.</p><p>Everybody pretends everything is fine.</p><p>A week passes like that.</p><p>Michael can see that it's clearly not working out.</p><hr/><p>Travis and Connor are, as expected, in the Camp Store stealing all kinds of shit again though Michael can tell they're not really into it. There's a telltale lackluster attitude as they half heartedly toss chips into their backpack.</p><p>They're also talking about some secret shit again because when Michael slams the door open, they shut up but Michael still catches the end of it.</p><p>"—think Chris is really on our side?"</p><p>Chris Rodriguez? The guy Clarisse rescued from the labyrinth? God, Michael hopes so. Going insane and then going back to the ones who made him insane in the first place? That is some heavy brainwashing.</p><p>"Do you need something, Mike?" Connor asks, and Michael knows it's Connor because of the bandaid on the upper arm, an unfortunate cut from saving Michael's unattentive ass from a hellhound.</p><p>"I need you to break me into Lee's apartment," Michael says upfront.</p><p>Travis, sitting on the store's counter, breaks into a grin and leaps off. "Say no more. I'm in. Let's do it."</p><p>Connor, leaning on the cabinets, raises an eyebrow. "Why? I mean, we're down to do it. But why?"</p><p>"A bow," Michael explains, "Lee had 2 of them. One at his dorm in the University. And one at the apartment. I want to fight with his bow."</p><p>
  <em>I want to win with his bow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want to finish this with his bow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want to have it all end with his bow.</em>
</p><p>"Let's do it," Travis says again. "Tonight. Let's do it tonight. Connor and I have to watch over the climbing walls in five minutes but we're free later to talk about the details."</p><p>But Connor is more hesitant, eyes narrowing in thought. "Why us?"</p><p>"His mother is home the three times I checked. I need to sneak past her."</p><p>Travis clings to Connor's shoulder, shaking them slightly and grin even bigger now. "This is perfect! You love these types of things, Connor. Sneaking around, pretending we're Scott Lang. We can finally put our skills to serious use this time. No more practicing in Hephaestus cabin. No more dropping hints so Beckendorf can make it more challenging. No more getting away with zero consequences. If we get caught, think of the police chase that will happen. The car chases through the suburbs. Crashing through the brown picket fences. Jumping over ravines like in those movies we used to watch with Hol— with— uh. Um. Breaking out of jail!"</p><p>"Wait, chase? Jail?! The goal is to not—"</p><p>"Well, when you put it that way…" Connor interrupts with the beginning of a smile. "It does sound kind of fun. Okay, Mike. We're in. Tonight at midnight. We'll meet you at the parking lot across from the front office."</p><p>"I'm serious, guys. No—"</p><p>"I hear Argus," Connor states, picking up the backpack with the goodies, zipping it shut, and tossing it over his shoulder.</p><p>"See you later, Michael," Travis says with a cheeky grin, "Take the punishment for us and we'll call it even." Then they're opening the window, waving goodbye, and jumping out just as Argus busts into the camp store with all 100 eyes landing on Michael and very, very displeased.</p><hr/><p>Michael waits impatiently in the parking lot, in front of the office with it's minimal lighting, hands in his jacket as he taps his foot. The first thing Michael sees is Lee's car pulling into the parking lot. The second thing? Beckendorf sitting in the driver's seat.</p><p>"What is he doing here?" Michael hisses, running up to the car as the window rolls down.</p><p>"Nice to see you too," Beckendorf grumbles as he shifts the car to park but lets the engine run idle.</p><p>"Beck? He's our driver." Travis says, stepping out of the car with a backpack slung over his shoulder and holding the door for Connor to step out. "What? Do you think me or Connor know how to drive? In a way that won't get attention? Pfft, get real."</p><p>"There's four of us now. Do you know how dangerous that is?"</p><p>"Then let's do this fast, yeah?" Connor says, itching at his band aid. "Lee's room was on the third floor. Come on."</p><p>Then Travis and Connor are breaking out into a run leaving Michael with zero choice.</p><p>"Keep the car running. Sorry about this. It's nice to see you too," Michael says apologetically to the only decent camper around.</p><p>"Wait," Beckendorf starts, fingers drumming on the wheel. "Be careful. Don't let your guard down," the son of Hephaestus says with a look that is clearly supposed to mean something.</p><p>Michael has zero idea what Beckendorf is trying to pass along and he has zero time to decipher it right now. He says that much before taking off.</p><p>They're not heading to the main stair, but to the fire escape. Effortlessly, Travis kicks off a wall and grabs the bottom rail and lifts himself up all without a sound, doing a little salute as he looks down at them before continuing up. Powers? It has to be. Connor, though, is waiting for him by the bottom, looking down at a stopwatch.</p><p>"He's always been fast like that?" Michael asks as he comes up beside him.</p><p>"All my life, but he's not as good as lockpicking as I am," Connor says and cups his hands together for him to step on, tucking the stopwatch away. "Come on. I'll help you get up there."</p><p>
  <span>Connor is just as silent as his brother, seemingly knowing where to step on the old, deteriorating fire escape to not make a sound. Michael, on the other end, is probably waking up the entire complex. Every creak, every squeak, he winces and hopes someone doesn’t call the cops. He and Connor get to Travis kneeling by the window, backpack open and an unbent hanger lodge inside. Seeing them, Travis wiggles the hanger faster. “I alllmossssttttt got it. Just need a minute more. Maybe two,” Travis says, tongue sticking out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re short on time,” Connor says, gesturing for Travis to move aside. In a flick of the hanger, Connor unlocks the window latch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Travis takes flashlights of his backpack and hands two to Connor, Connor handing one to him. “It’s low-power. In case Lee’s mom is home and we can’t turn on the lights.”</span>
</p><p>Michael slips into the room, notices the light flitting in through the door crack, and voices on the other side. One is definitely his mom and the other must be Lee's mom. Probably school stuff. Michael doesn't think much about it.</p><p>He finds the bow pretty easily, under the bed, as well as a buckload of other stuff. A quiver of arrows which he slings around his back. Papers from classes. Little notes from friends. A high school yearbook. A harmonica.</p><p>On the walls, musical posters. Bands. So many sheets with music notes. A fucking 10 feet long poster of the notes on the treble and bass clefs despite Lee being such a big nerd that he already memorized it. No. Considering Lee's heritage, he probably knew it all the moment he was born.</p><p>And above his desks, pictures pinned to the wall. Of him and his siblings from years ago when they went to a Discovery Center — Lee holding Carly's and Sam's hands who were just wobbly toddlers back then with his big smile. Of his middle school wind ensemble — Lee in the middle row with his trumpet held high. Of his high school friends — Lee to the right, arms swung over a friend's shoulder. Pictures of early Camp — Lee piggy-backing off a disgruntled sand-colored blond with Travis, Connor, and Annabeth — young, baby-faced — at their heel. More pictures of camp: Beckendorf with just one bead. Chiron in the shotgun seat, terrified, with the same blond from earlier laughing in the driver's seat. Their cabin from last year when Michael was claimed.</p><p>"Do you have it?" Connor whispers, tucking a dollar into his pants and stepping inside. Michael glances behind him to find Travis pouting and zipping up his backpack.</p><p>His only goal was the bow.</p><p>Nothing more.</p><p>But standing here now, Michael wants to take everything with him.</p><p>Every paper. Every book. Everything that was Lee's.</p><p>He should do it. Who knows what Ms. Fletcher will do with the belongings. Better for it to be rotting in an attic at camp then in a landfill.</p><p>Connor strides to the wall with the photos. He looks at them with a bitter smile, until it turns into a grimace and he tears off the face of the blond from the photos.</p><p>"I'm taking these," Connor whispers, removing the pictures from the wall. "You want some of them?"</p><p>"Yeah, plus a few others. Let me see it agai—"</p><p>A name flits through the closed door.</p><p>Lee's.</p><p>They're talking about Lee.</p><p>"Let's go," Connor says, handing the photos to Travis to tuck into the backpack. They both head for the window but Michael stays where he is. Wanting to listen and at the same time… not wanting. Connor strides back to him, grabbing him by the wrist and giving him a hard stare.</p><p>"Let's. Go," Connor says again.</p><p>Michael tugs his wrist free and walks to the door. He ignores the brothers' hissing to press his ear against the door.</p><p>"I'm worried. Lee hasn't texted me at all this week. He always texts me good morning and good night," says an unfamiliar voice.</p><p>"He isn't answering his cell as well. This isn't like him," his mom murmurs, concern obvious in her voice. Michael's heart clenches. Lee's phone. It wouldn't stop vibrating on the nightstand in the cabin and Michael tosses it in the bonfire to shut it up.</p><p>Lee's mom began, "Do you think…" A pause. The sound of a kleenex. A nose blowing. "Do you think he ran away? His car is gone. I checked the cameras and he hasn't been home for a week. It's summer break. He should have been home."</p><p>"I wouldn't be surprised. What with the way you've been treating him… I have to say, it's kind of shitty of you to do."</p><p>"Do you think I want this kind of relationship?! No!" Michael jumps at the wail. "But it's been years. I don't — it's not possible — we can't — there's no way to start a mother-son relationship now."</p><p>Is this some kind of joke? The Fate's cruel jest? To finally have a mother who gives a shit when it's too late? A whole seven days too late. Two full decades to do something, anything and she wasted them.</p><p>There's no sympathy in Michael. Just burning rage, blustering unchecked, building uncontrolled. Michael grips the doorknob. <em>Rip it open</em>, he screams, <em>tear her a new one</em>, <em>wreak just a modicum of the pain she inflicted on her own son. Just so she can understand a bit, just a little bit, or a lot. Whatever works best. </em></p><p>But Travis bounces across the room to hold his wrist, his grip light, and shakes his head.</p><p>He didn't have to say anything for him to understand.</p><p>"<em>This isn't what Lee would want." </em></p><p>So Michael lets the doorknob go (it's unlocked. Lee always said he kept his door unlocked. In case his mother ever wanted to come in, to 'talk' or 'bond' or something.)</p><p>Michael bites his tongue (he doesn't trust himself yet. Not yet.)</p><p>Michael nods and steps back. (He doesn't want to. He wants retribution. He wants her to understand. He wants her to <em>pay.</em>)</p><p>And Michael turns around.</p><p>The bow he slung across his shoulder knocks against the door.</p><p>The three of them freeze.</p><p>The voices on the other side stop.</p><p>Michael stares at his friend's faces — Connor, grim and Travis, apprehensive — before he hears the sound of a chair scooting back.</p><p>"Crap," Connor mouths, standing but waiting. Listening.</p><p>A second pass. Then another. Then one more. Then — someone knocks on the door and a woman's voice, soft and hesitant, speaks, "Lee? Are you in there?"</p><p>"Okay, well, Plan B," Connor whispers with a grimace. "Travis, go."</p><p>"Plan B? What's plan B?" Michael hisses but Travis springs to action, darting for the open window and disappearing into the dark in a smooth jump.</p><p>Connor locks Lee's door and jams a chair under the knob.</p><p>"Lee didn't want his mom knowing where camp is," Connor continues whispering, walking to the window. "Travis went to weld the front door shut. We're going to lock them in the apartment for a bit and give us time to get away. So, you know, not have them tailing after us and make Beckendorf practice his racing skills. Spoiler, Beck is not a good driver."</p><p>"It's your mother. Lee, may I please come in?" Lee's mother continued to say.</p><p>Connor sits on the window sill, twisting to face him, a foot out and a foot in. "Come on, Mike. We gotta go."</p><p>Michael looks back at the door. From the crack at the bottom, he can see the shadow, shifting from one foot to the other. Like she's nervous. Like she has any right to be nervous.</p><p>It's still there. The urge to lash out. To rip the door open and tell her everything. Every way Lee suffered because of her. Her negligence. Her isolation.</p><p>"Michael!" Connor hisses, "Lee wouldn't want us to hurt his mom. So. C<em>ome</em>. <em>On</em>. We're leaving."</p><p>Michael digs his nails into his palm, trying to kick himself into gear. Connor's right. Travis's right. Lee wouldn't want this.</p><p>"Lee… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. For being a terrible mother. For neglecting you. For avoiding you. I was cruel and unjust and unfair and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."</p><p>Lee wouldn't want his family getting involved in demigod business.</p><p>"There's no excuses for my actions. I—I made so many mistakes. I have no right to be worried. But I was. When you didn't text me for days, I was scared. I was scared you were hurt and you needed help."</p><p>Lee would accept the apology.</p><p>"I know we haven't — I haven't done a great job communicating with you, but… but I… I want to do better. Try better. If … if you still want a mother, I'll be one."</p><p>Lee would let her into his life no questions asked.</p><p>"Lee? Please say something. Text me if you're more comfortable. Just, please, stop with the silent treatment."</p><p>Lee would forgive her.</p><p>But Michael isn't Lee. And Michael doesn't really give a care about Lee's mom or her feelings.</p><p>"You're too late. Lee's dead," Michael says, loud and clear, not exactly rejoicing in the choked gasp outside the door but not regretting it either. Connor isn't too happy, but he's more exasperated than angry.</p><p>"You happy now?"</p><p>Michael shrugs and swings one leg over onto the fire escape. "Just a bit."</p><p>The doorknob twists and shakes once, twice. A body slams against the door. Then a voice, his mom's voice, uttering, "Michael? Is that you?"</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Connor gives him a 'I-told-you-so' look.</p><p>"Shut up," Michael unwisely hisses.</p><p>The door knob shakes again. "Michael, I know it's you. Open this door right now."</p><p>Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shitttttt.</p><p>"Michael!" The doorknob shakes and a body slams against the door again.</p><p>"Sneak back to your room and tell your mom she was just hallucinating," Connor whispers with a neutral face but Michael can see the fucking glee in his eyes. Fucking devil. He's taking great joy in this. "Need some help lying? I know Will sucks at it. Austin and Kayla are slightly better but still sucks. So I'm assuming all the children of Apollo can't lie."</p><p>"I can lie just fine!" Michael hisses, "But she's my mom. Don't you know all moms are a bloodhound when it comes to their kids?"</p><p>"My mom left me and Travis when we were toddlers," Connor says, nonchalantly. "For a con job, I think. Or was it because she went to prison? Or did she die? To be honest, I don't really remember what she even looks like let alone where she is."</p><p>Okay. Conversation over. That is not a topic to get into right now. Maybe later. Maybe with someone more qualified. Maybe with a therapist. Michael's pretty sure the only counseling he'll be able to give is 'kick her ass' and he's not too sure if that's helpful in the long run.</p><p>The door trembles like someone is kicking it. The hinges move off the frame. Connor swings off the window ledge entirely and heads for the ladder. "Time to go, Mikey. What are you gonna do?"</p><p>The door is kicked again. Mom is still yelling. Below and above, Michael can see lights being flicked on and a couple people looking out their window. One is even on the phone. And in the background of it all, there's that unfamiliar woman's voice, "Wait, Audrey. Wait. Stop kicking for a sec. Let me—I need to ask— Audrey, stop!"</p><p>The kicking and yelling stop as a soft voice asks, "What do you mean Lee is dead? What happened?"</p><p>Connor, oh so helpfully, shrugs and takes off, heading down the fire escape with his feather light feet. Michael should do the same, is about to do the same. But he hesitates, watches the shadow fidget through the crack on the door, and answers, "He was fighting in a war. To save the world, or something, from this evil guy. There was a battle last week. A giant hit him from behind the head and he died."</p><p>The door is kicked again. "What war? What battle?! Michael, are you in on this?!"</p><p>
  <em>Because I don't want you to fight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's good to follow your instinct. </em>
</p><p>Michael takes a deep breathe, clear his voice. He can't sound unsure about this. "Yeah, I am."</p><p>As expected, mom screeches, "No! You're not!"</p><p>"People will die if I don't do this."</p><p>"I don't care. You're 15. You're too young to be doing anything. Now open this door. You are grounded <em>indefinitely</em>."</p><p>In his dreams, he can see it so clearly. Will and 12. Kayla, 11. Austin, 10. Stabbed. Electrocuted. Drowned. But he can stop it. He knows he can. If he has the power to do so, then he'll do it. He'll make sure not one more of his siblings meets an end so soon in life.</p><p>Michael grips the bow gifted by their father to all his children. His fingers trace the name's engravings.</p><p>"I'll come back," he says, headstrong and unyielding.</p><p>"Michael!"</p><p>"I'll come back."</p><p>"No, no, no. Michael! Michael, no!"</p><p>"I promise. I'll come back"</p><p>"Michael Yew, you open this door right now! Michael! OPEN THIS DOOR! MICHAEL!"</p><p>And he's running down the stairs three at a time, uncaring of the noise he makes now, jumping down to the ground floor and stumbling. Connor, waiting patiently on the ground floor, helps steady him. He looks up, grimacing. "Oof. What happened up there?"</p><p>Michael shakes his head and starts running for the car. Travis is already inside, in the backseat talking to Beckendorf who stares straight ahead with an unimpressed face ever.</p><p>Connor heads for the side door, next to Travis, and Michael gets into the shotgun seat, slamming the door shut. He ignores their stares as he pulls the seatbelt on.</p><p>"Michael, uh, what are you doing? Shouldn't you be back in—"</p><p>"Drive," Michael orders, staring through the rear mirror. His mom is at the fire escape. She's yelling something. She's starting to climb down the stairs. More lights are turning on and heads poke out from the windows.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Drive. Now. Unless you want to lose my mom in a car chase."</p><p>Beckendorf shifts into reverse and backs out, racing into the dimly lit streets with tires screeching. Michael winces as the front end hits the asphalt as the car goes over a pothole.</p><p>Travis leans forward in his seat and pokes him in the shoulder with the unbent hanger.</p><p>"So, uh, this wasn't part of the plan. We were going to get ice cream after helping you. It was kinda going to be the highlight of the night."</p><p>"I never said I'll drive you guys to get ice cream," Beckendorf mutters under his breath as he makes a sharp turn out onto the main street.</p><p>Michael grabs and tugs the hanger out of Travis's hands and tosses it out the window. "Safety hazard. Someone will get poked in the eye."</p><p>Connor leans forward, resting one elbow on Travis's shoulder. "No, but seriously. What are you doing here? Won't your mom go ballistic?"</p><p>"I'm a yearrounder now," Michael says, ignoring the three pairs of eyes boring into him. "Just until this war is over. Someone Iris Message Chiron. Tell him if my mom calls, don't give her the address."</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
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